Endless Abduction

by Gloria Martin

  “Actually, no,” Mae Lin says. “Denver prefers us to keep close quarters on him because of his status. Mr. Phillips has many enemies.”

  Enemies? The word alone puts some of this into perspective. It’s pretty naïve of me to think that a man with so much money wouldn’t need some people to watch his back. Does that mean he thinks I have some kind of capability to protect him? Because there is no way I’m raising a hand to protect a man, I don’t care how much he’s worth.

  Okay, depending on the size of the opponent, I might scrap a little for Denver. A billion is a really big figure.

  “It looks like he left the car at Point Dume at around four this morning,” Gloria says, showing us the screen of her phone. She’s been mapping out the path he took after the hotel.

  “That is supposing it was him driving the car,” I find myself saying. I wish I didn’t, because now I’m worried that I sound suspicious.

  “I didn’t even consider the fact that the car could have been stolen,” Gloria says, tapping herself in the forehead. “We need to go check his hotel room right now.”

  “I bet that’s where Jill is already heading to,” Mae Lin says.

  “I can’t believe her,” Gloria says. “She’s always doing this kind of thing.”

  “What kind of thing?” I ask.

  “Breaking the contract,” Gloria continues. “She thinks that she is some exception to a legally binding document because she has the delusion that her and Denver share a bond.”

  Mae Lin’s face tightens at those words, as if she believes that Denver and herself share a bond. Do all of us share a bond with Denver D. Phillips? Here, I thought I was special.

  Tara Rogers is nothing special, I remind myself. Get back to reality, girl. “Maybe Jill’s not stupid for going to look for him,” I say, against my instinct. “Maybe it’s dumb to sit around here waiting because of some contract. He could really need our help.” Now, even though I am growing a strong distaste for Jill, I find myself drawn toward the door after her.

  “Maybe we should go together,” Gloria says. “We should go check the hotel and if we don’t find anything there then we check the car at Point Dume.”

  “I don’t know about this,” Mae Lin whimpers. “Should I stay here just in case he comes back?”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Gloria says, clicking her phone off. “Tara, are you down to roll with me?”

  “Yeah,” I say, not thinking. “Let’s roll.”

  *****

  In the passenger seat of Gloria’s car, Tara felt the tension of her lie growing with every mile. Could she risk telling Gloria that she was with Denver? They drove in silence, with Gloria filling in the awkward moments with random facts about the job and Denver.

  “Been on contract for five years,” she says with pride. “I met him when I was bartending in Hollywood. Next day I was his driver,” she laughs. She wears a big pair of Oakley shades with a bright blue tint. When she looks over at me, the reflection of my chocolate skin is a weird shade of dark navy.

  “You’ve been working for him for that long?” I ask, amazed at the amount of commitment.

  “After a while you’ll stop thinking about it as work,” she nods, eyes focused on the winding PCH. Looking over to her, I see the beautiful blue ocean and sky—and on such a gorgeous day it’s hard to believe that we’re on our way to look for a missing person. “Soon you’ll start to see that this way of life is hard to give up. If we find him, that is.”

  The way she says the last part is so ominous that shivers run up my arms. “When was the last time something like this happened?” I ask.

  “You really want to know?” she replies, face forward.

  “I guess I’ll let you be the judge of that,” I say, at this point no longer sure what I’m getting myself into.

  “The last time Denver disappeared, it was because one of the partners in his company kidnapped him for ransom,” she says with a straight face. Part of me is waiting for her to crack a smile and confirm that she is joking, but the smile never comes.

  “And how does that story end?” I ask.

  “It ends with the partner, Jerod Olecki, sentenced to life in prison,” she says. We’re now in Malibu, close to the hotel. “Jill, Danielle, and I found him in San Diego. They wanted a ransom for two billion.”

  “Who is Danielle?” I ask, realizing that name has never come up. Gloria gives herself a few breaths before responding.

  “She was the chef before you,” she says. “She passed away recently.”

  Passed away? Please tell me that it was of natural causes.

  “What happened?” I ask nonchalantly although my heart is beating in my ribcage.

  “She was killed,” she says. “Poisoned, and nobody figured out who poisoned her. I, for one, believe it was Olecki, or at least Olecki hired someone to do poison her, but it was never confirmed. And I’m legally restricted from confessing my beliefs or making accusations that might take me or Denver to court.”

  So the last chef was poisoned. For a second I literally feel like I’m about to pass out. For all I know, I could have been poisoned already. Could last night have been a hallucination? Could someone have drugged me with my own food? Mae Lin was awfully close to me.

  No, that’s impossible, I think. Last night was too vivid, too real. “Did you get the FBI involved?” The more questions I ask, the more stupid I feel.

  “You’ll see on the contract that the FBI is never to get involved,” Gloria says. “And the fact that LAPD even called to inform us that the car was found is because Denver has someone working in the force.”

  I don’t even feel like I can speak—is it possible that Gloria is in on all this? I start to panic, that damn paranoia is making me think that this woman is driving me to my death. You’ve watched too many movies with Dominic, I think. He would always have on some crazy thriller that’d wake me up in the middle of the night.

  I can’t let these doubts get to me—my gut tells me that for now I need to try to trust these people, and stay positive. All I need is to see Denver again, once he’s in my arms everything will be different. And when that moment comes, I’ll look into his eyes and ask him to tell me the truth.

  Just hold on to that thought, Tara, I tell myself. Gloria stays silent for the next few blocks where we turn into the hotel. I’m so worried that if I go inside someone will recognize me from last night.

  In the drive, Gloria is forced to pull through for the valet. It’s same guy who parked my car last night, so I turn my face out the passenger side window.

  “Hello, there, miss,” he says politely to Gloria.

  “I’ll park it myself,” she tells him. I can’t help but admire the confidence in everything she says.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the valet says, and Gloria drives off her spot.

  “Ready?” Gloria asks with a smile.

  “Ready,” I answer, my hand hesitant on the passenger door.

  *****

  Gloria scans the parking lot for Jill’s car, which is nowhere to be seen. “Damn that girl,” she says with legitimate agitation. “She’s probably at Point Dume, then. Well, just remember that if and when we go there, not to trust everything we find.”

  She is so mistrusting of Jill that it makes me wonder whose side I should be on. I’ve never doubted Gloria for a second, but why am I second-guessing my feelings about her now? As we enter the hotel, I refuse to look at the concierge or anyone else in the lobby because I’m afraid of being recognized. Last night the concierge took me right to Denver’s room as if he was waiting for me to enter the lobby. Nobody is expecting us now, so I’m hoping that we can pass through unnoticed.

  Don’t act like you know where you’re going, I remind myself. I guess if I’m going to keep up this lie then I don’t have much control over the situation. Following Gloria’s urgent gait, she goes straight for the front desk—the last place I want to go.

  “Hello, I’m here to see if there is anyone checked in under Denver D. Phil
lips?” she asks the young woman at the desk. She’s so forward that the poor girl is taken aback.

  “I’m so sorry, miss, let me look that up for you right now,” the girl says in a high-pitched squeak.

  Gloria takes her glasses off, looks at me, and raises her eyebrows seductively. Her tan skin is so exotic; I can see why a man like Denver would lust for her.

  He lusts for you, Tara, I think. Don’t forget what you did to each other last night. That is forever.

  As long as I have that none of these stupid doubts can break me.

  “I’m sorry, there is no Mr. Philips in our system,” she says. Gloria and I both glare at each other.

  “Okay, try Thomas D. Figaro,” she says. What? Where did that random name come from?

  I’m not the only one confused—the clerk also has to think twice before typing the name in. “Okay, Thomas D. Figaro,” she says, searching the system. “I’m sorry, miss, no Mr. Figaro either.”

  “Okay, no problem,” Gloria says, squeezing the space between her eyebrows. “Oh, will you try Roy Denum?”

  This must be some kind of joke, I think. Does Denver really go by so many aliases? Maybe that’s just part of the billionaire lifestyle, who am I to tell?

  The clerk types it in with out saying anything, and then her eyes perk up. “Okay, here we do have a Mr. Roy Denum,” she says finally. “It says here that all of Mr. Denum’s information is to remain confidential, so I apologize for the inconvenience.”

  I did not put the right make up on for this kind of day. Never did I expect to be at the hotel again, let alone learning that Denver’s life is much more complicated than I could have imagined.

  “If it says that all of his information is confidential,” Gloria goes on, “then it also says whomever tells you that his password is Divided Orange Three will be immediately granted access to his whereabouts.”

  Suddenly I feel like I’m stuck in a 007 movie, or a videogame, or something. Just the other day I was a sous-chef at a reputable restaurant, and then a billionaire ate there and everything got turned upside down. I’m standing in a hotel lobby that would be zeroes and zeroes out of my price range, and Gloria’s got the secret password to at least one of Denver’s secret identities. Divided Orange Three. I don’t know if I should remember that or pretend I never heard it.

  The clerk swallows hard, apparently trying to make the same decision as me. “Yes, that note does appear on Mr. Denum’s file,” she says. “I will have the concierge escort you to his room.”

  “Has he checked out?” Gloria asks.

  “No, he has not,” she says.

  That doesn’t make sense, I think. He was gone when I woke up this morning. Maybe he went back? I’m obviously clueless—I didn’t even know I was staying in a room registered to someone name Roy Denum. It sounds like a name pulled out of an old detective show. I make a mental note to search it on the internet later.

  The concierge comes around the desk, and I exhale with relief to see that it’s a different one from last night. I don’t know what I would have done. Someone still might recognize me. It’s just best to keep my eyes low and only respond when Gloria speaks to me. Once we’re in the elevator, I’m pretty sure both the concierge and Gloria are suspicious of my heavy breathing. I also believe I’m sweating through my shirt.

  The elevator dings open and the concierge leads us out. Denver’s door is close to the elevator, and in moments we’ll be at the room. All because Gloria has secret access to him. I envy what she has over me, and while I’m nervous about where Denver is, I can’t get my mind off of how much I want that kind of access.

  *****

  As we enter the luxury suite, I’m instantly taken back to last night. I even smell a hint of my apricot lotion. Oh my god, I think, I’m wearing it today. Gloria will know I was here.

  “Here you are, ladies,” the concierge says, closing the door behind him. Gloria steps forward, leaving me in the doorway. How is one supposed to act when they’re in a place that they said they’ve never been to? I pretend to look around like Gloria is, basically mimicking her.

  “Denver, are you here?” she calls out. No response. The bed hasn’t been made since I left it, and there are no signs of clothing or leftovers from last night. That’s the first thing I check for.

  However, she doesn’t waste her time—she goes right for the bed and reaches into her handbag. From the handbag she withdraws a small black stick, and when she turns it on a purple light emits from it. Oh no, I think. Is that a black light? I would have maybe checked the gigantic bathroom, closet, or kitchenette first.

  She hovers the little black stick over the pillowcases and the sheets. Her face twists when the light stumbles upon a bright glowing splotch—and it just happens to be the spot where I was sitting when Denver finished all over my chest. Some must have went rogue and landed in the sheets. Then again, I kind of passed out right afterward, so some might have accidentally gotten on the linen.

  Whoops.

  “There’s no doubt,” Gloria says. “He was here last night and he was with a woman. The question is which woman.” I don’t think my heart has ever beat so hard before. I want to just confess to her, it would make this so much easier—but I want last night to be my secret. I want it to stay between Denver and I.

  “Who do you think it could have been?” I ask, trying not to show that my lip is trembling.

  “Well, Jill didn’t leave last night,” Gloria says. Why does her mind go straight to Jill? “Mae Lin was in the office, and I was at the mansion. The only other woman he would have been with is you.”

  This is all happening really fast—all these deductions. If her process of elimination is based on the four of us, does that mean that he casually sleeps with the three of them?

  Oh, and don’t forget, Tara, I think, Gloria just told you that the last chef was poisoned.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie. I can play poker like this, I grew up in Cleveland, after all. “And to be honest with you I’m kind of offended that you even say that. I barely know the man and am coming out of a very fucked up, but very serious relationship.” My finger is pointing all over the place to emphasize my anger. While I do feel offended, it would be a joke to call my relationship with Dominic serious or fucked up.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I just assumed that he might be with you because you’re on contract.”

  “Wrong,” I say. “I’m not ‘on contract’ yet, and frankly I don’t even really know what all this means. To be real, it’s pretty nasty to pull out that little pen and look for his bodily fluids like that.” My objective here is to get her to put it away, because I’m sweating the possibility of it exploiting my secretion from last night as well. Lord knows there are several places she could look.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” she says, putting it back in her handbag. “It is wrong of me to assume. But by now if you haven’t signed it, then at least you have some idea of what’s going on, and it doesn’t hurt to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  “So all of you sleep with him?” I ask. It’s the last thing I wanted to say, and I pray it doesn’t let on the fact that Denver and I were together last night.

  “No, all of us don’t sleep with him,” she hisses. Now the tables have turned and I’ve offended her. “I just thought that out of anyone in his life right now it would be you he’d want to be with.”

  “That makes absolutely zero sense to me,” I say, and it’s true. “We just met. Why would he want to be with me out of anyone else? I’m sure he’s got women lined up to be with him. I don’t know about you or the other girls, but I just do my job, okay?”

  How long can I keep this lie up?

  She doesn’t blink in this last, hesitant gaze and then she swallows hard, going on about the search. She checks the drawers, takes off the sheets, looks in the shower—even the smallest corner is turned over for any clue that could lead us to Denver.

  “Alright, I’ll let Mae Lin know tha
t he’s not here,” she says with a smile. And, walking toward the hotel room door, she says without looking at me, “And that your hair was all over his sheets.”

  *****

  On the way to Point Dume I don’t say a word. With the remark about my hair being in the sheets, now I feel the same way about Gloria as I did when Jill told me that I didn’t want to know how she knew that I was with Denver. I’m starting to feel like I’m on some kind of sick reality show. If that’s the case I don’t care how much it costs, I’m suing up the ass.

  The gorgeous blue ocean and sky have now turned gray, and as we enter the beach it looks more desolate than exotic, especially with police cruisers idling around Denver’s car. This sight is unreal—the car is literally between the parking lot and the water, in the sand, all doors open, trunk and hood popped.

  “Did they do that to his car?” Gloria asks me. I suppose she forgot we’re not on speaking terms at the moment.

  “I have no idea,” I whisper, trying to look around the parameters of the windshield to get a better view. As Gloria’s car rolls up closer, everything seems more fake. The car looks like it was meant to be abandoned. Did Denver get hammered? Maybe someone really did steal the car. But that doesn’t explain where Denver is.

  Is it possible that he got kidnapped again?

  Here, the whole time I’ve been getting offended but if I was honest with Gloria and told her that Denver and I were together last night, maybe that might put us one step closer to finding him. Whatever, there’s no need to admit it out loud, I think. She already knows. The hair doesn’t lie. I can at least keep my pride for a little while.

  Gloria stops the car at enough of a distance so that we don’t have to be bombarded by the police right away. “I don’t care what your story is,” she says, “just keep it straight when they start asking us questions. Got it?”

  “Got it,” I answer. As she opens her door, I’m unsure as to whether she wants me to follow her.